The Things They Carried Alternative Chapter
by christiancreativity
Summary: An alternative chapter to the things they carried where Ted lives and teams with a new character


The Things They Carried

Lost Chapter: Things Happen As They're Supposed To Happen

I heard gunfire. The sound pierce through the branches far away. How far? I suppose... thirty meters. I was getting better at detecting where they were coming from. But I was so dazed, and so tired, I was tempted to never get up again. Maybe I'd be safe if I—

A bullet fly by my head above, zooming through the plantlife above my head.

"Okay, okay," I mumbled, scrambling out of hiding. I stumbled on my supplies that I'd left out the night before, but picked up my bag, gun, and everything else before the fighting could come closer. This wasn't the first time this happened. In fact, it was starting to happen every other day.

You might ask, why would I hide between the lines of fire of my two sides? Surely I'd be safer with my fellow soldiers. Pretty simple, I ran away. I didn't when I got the draft notice, or when we showed up in this damn country. Nope, I decided to run out of there when the bullets started firing. I didn't have a problem with the draft notice. Going to war at least told me where I was going after high school. One of the biggest mysteries of life, solved right before my eyes. I didn't have any family that would miss me if I died either, so it wasn't like I had anything back home. At first, I thought I might not mind if I die out here.

That proved to be wrong the moment I saw dead people. I remember back home in the movies. I'd sneak into the theaters, half to watch the movies, another to hit on girls. The people in those are over actors who get a wound, say a final cheesy line, roll credits. Not out here. Nope, people die. They smell like crap, and that's understandable with how bodily functions work after death. They just sit there, frozen like ice, as if wondering what their last words would have been before the credits rolled. But they don't. They keep playing forever, sitting there like a skeleton, forcing me to wonder what their life was like before this war.

I remember thinking it'd be not bad in the slightest. I remember something my uncle Stanley told me about war when I was young. "War is not bound by religion or law. You are free to do whatever ya want, and even God will let ya get a free pass 'cause ya fighting for ya country. If anythin' you might get a free pass up to heaven for killin' some of dos sonsabitches."

Yeah, not the best guy to take my philosophies from. But I really did think no matter what evil game was played out here, I'd be fine. But I wasn't. We were animals. No, we were worse, we were murderers. When we had bullets flying between our eyes, and we shot each other dead in the face, the last thing that was on our mind was fighting for our country. We were thinking about killing the other guy off before they got us.

So I ran. I ran just like I was now, with my tail between my legs, begging not to run into a platoon. I wasn't sure who I was more scared of, the kongs, or my platoon that knew I was still out here. They had radios, the whole world probably knew about me. I was probably on some TV somewhere getting laughed at by kids with parents shaking their head at me.

I gripped my bag. Another thing that uncle Stanley said was people are defined by the things they carried. He was a second war vet, so it wasn't until now I learned where he got that from. If so, I couldn't have been more ashamed of until now who I was.

I lost every weapon aside from my rifle. I'd cast them aside. They were out of ammo, half broken from the gunk I'd let get inside of them, and I couldn't use them even if I could. I was done killing. I had an assortment of shoes I'd pulled off of dead guys I'd pass. I was terrified of them, but my feet were terrified of falling off. Not that it did much good though, a lot of them were worse than the pair before. I kept alternating to feel like I was doing something.

Besides that I had the basic supplies, and the stuff from back home. Two half filled canteens of water, my old lucky coin, an old nude mag, (it was so ruined the best I used it for was toilet paper) a pocketknife, and the clothes I carried on my back. You might say that wasn't much, and you'd be right. I think that was the biggest failure I could see. I was here walking in what is likely the final days of my life, carrying all that I could for my burning blaze of glory, and I had nothing left to show for it.

I finally gave up my run, sure that they were far enough away now. I fell into a walk, catching my breathe. I'd been in these woods awhile and retraced my steps often enough to know where I was going. A big hill, which probably wasn't the smartest place to go, but if I made to the other side, I could camp out in this one really nice hiding spot I had.

I pulled my lucky coin out. I'd been my first quarter as a kid, and I'd kept it ever since. I mostly just used it like how I was now, flipping it over and over again for some kind of distraction. I continuously flipped, watching the dirty metal go up and down. Up, and then down. Up high, and then down below. Way up high, and then—

"Down below!"

Now, some things you get used to, and you shouldn't. Like letting the dog wizz inside, or not brushing your teeth every night, or somethin' like that. Another of those things is the sound of helicopters. In Nam, they fly by pretty darn often. I'd always wish I could just find one all by its lonesome, complete with instructions on how to get the damn thing out of here. But instead, there was one way above me, and by the looks of it, flying out of control. A man in a jumpsuit was barreling out of the helicopter with another man in his arm. His parachute came out at once, and barely managed to catch wind before the two came crashing down from the ground.

One was a shaken man with his helmet still covering his face, the other, who I could tell by his uniform, was a pilot. But his face was a mask of horror, and he was flailing around wildly.

"It's okay, it's okay," the man who came out on the parachute assured him. "Really."

In the distance the flead from helicopter went crashing into the trees, creating a giant explosion, which shook the entire forest around us.

"REALLY!" the helmet man shook his flailing friend. "It's okay!" He peered up to me, revealing a whitish face. "Don't just stand there and gawk, ya idiot!"

"Right," I dropped to my knees and held the man's legs while his friend held his arms. I realized he was coming out of a serious shock. He looked at the other man in horror, like he had just seen a ghost.

"Name and position?" I asked no man in particular.

"None of that crap," the man shook his head. "No military talk for me thank you." He sighed. "Name's Ted. This..." he looked down at the pilot's name tag. "Is Ben I guess."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"

"'Course not," he shook his head. "Just met 'em."

The pilot was finally coming out of his wails. I realized as he tucked his head between his arms that he was crying. I guess losing your helicopter can do that to you. Was he stuck here now?

"How'd you crash?" I asked.

"Uh..." Ted looked like he was trying to find the right words. "I was getting a lift back to the States. Ben saw me in the back. Not a problem, but he might have thought I was dead."

The pilot, or Ben I guess as he was called, didn't object. He did however continue sobbing in his sleeves.

"Why would he think that?" I asked.

"Okay, hope you like long stories," Ted finally sat down. He let out a long sigh as he did. He didn't look exhausted as he did stressed. He unsnapped his helmet, tossing it aside, and revealing a head of bright dirty brown hair. "I was out for a piss, and then what do you know it, I get shot. Now, I fell, and called out for my buddy Jimmy. He never shows up. But the ones who got me ran off, and I was left there to die. Luckily, I had a stash of grass on me..." he smiled mischievously at this. "And yeah, it made the blow not as bad. Not to mention it wasn't as bad as a thought as I made it out to be. But I saw an opportunity. If I made it look like I was dead, boom!" He threw his arms out wide. "Free shot back home, baby! So, I took out some of my good ol' tranquilizers, took an itty bit of them, and next thing you know, I'm in helicopter on my way out of this shithole."

I glanced toward Ben the pilot. "Scaring him out of his mind."

Ted nodded. "He basically froze up. He didn't move for over half a minute. When I tried to calm him down, that's when he began to flail. I threw on a backpack and jumped free. At least we're safe now."

As if to prove Ted wrong, gunfire rang past our ears. Ted grabbed my head and threw me on the ground next to Ben. We started rolling down the hillside opposite to the fire. Next thing I knew we were the forest, and Ben was helping us to our feet.

"How'd they know we were here!?" I shouted.

Ted shrugged. "I don't know. That explosion might have been a hint." He raised a hand out to Ben. "Come on guy, we gotta get out of here."

Ben with a face filled with tears still reached out a hand toward Ben, but by time his hand reached Ted, that hand had gone limp. An oncoming shot hit Ben just as he was getting up. A one hit kill.

I looked away fiercely. "I can't see another one." I took off.

"Wait up!" Ted ran after me, leaving his helmet, and the man we just met, behind.

After racing through what seemed like hours of jungle, we arrived at my hiding place. It was an old abandoned cave tucked away in rock formation. It was pretty hard to see unless you pushed the trees out front. Once we were inside, we slumped up against the rocks, and panted our lungs out.

I still wasn't processing what happened. "Ben... got... shot."

He nodded, and through his pants said. "Yep."

"Yep? That's it," I chided. "He died because of you trying to get back home."

Ted gritted his teeth, but didn't look that down about it. "Yeah, well, my buddy Jimmy, I almost died because he didn't come to my rescue. Now this guy's dead because I decided to take advantage of that. It's a vicious circle."

I shook my head. "It's different. He's dead."

Ted shrugged, sliding to a sitting position against the cave wall. "It happened as it was suppose to, can't change it now. And don't act like you're a saint here either. I bet you've killed a couple."

I leaned against the wall, balancing myself. My insides were on fire, and were tempted make an escape. "I regret it everyday."

"Ha!" Ted threw his arms behind his head. "Regret?" He shook his head. "Regret is a useless emotion, just like hate. I don't live by it, and because of that I don't feel sorry for old Ben back there. You should try it to, you might feel better about yourself."

"I don't know how," I admitted. "How can you just give up a feeling?"

Ted shrugged. "Don't know myself. But let me tell you somethin' that always makes me feel better. Life happens as it's supposed to. Things happen as they should. There's no use thinking how things could have been, because they didn't. The way you are, and the way the world is, that's the only thing that could have happened."  
I dwelled in his words. I fell to a sitting position beside him, finally catching my breathe. "So... to not feel bad I..."

"I'll use an example," he cleared his throat. "My body needed a piss, so that me put me where I was. The bad guys shot at me, because they don't like our country, and don't want me to kill them first. My buddy Mr. Cross didn't save me because he's an idiot. I tried getting a free ride back to the states because I'm lazy and a coward. And Ben died because he was a scared man in the wrong place at the wrong time. Things could have worked differently, but they didn't, so no use getting angry."

I nodded slightly. "I think I get it." I tried thinking about it. I shot those men, but could I not have? Would I be dead if I hadn't. The world happened in ways to make it so I killed them, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. It wasn't a good thing, but I couldn't be upset over it, even if it was really hard not to.

"I'm telling you man, it's useless living in regret. It's like getting angry. There's no point to it. It's about peace and love, man." He smiled mischievously. "And apart of that is helping our fellow man when they're down. Don't worry, I got you." He reached behind into his bag and started shuffling. His brow tightened as he didn't find what he was looking for. "I... no. No! Those sons-a-bitches smoked all my grass!" He jumped to his feet outraged. "No wonder they believed I was dead so easily! They were stoned out of their skulls!"

Ted continued to bounce around the cave upset for the next twenty minutes, completely filled with rage. So much for peace and love.

Ted and I spent the next week together. We drifted between scavenging for supplies, and hiding out in various places. Usually though we just spent most of our time in the cave. It worked out though, because with the whole faking his death thing, he was avoiding this platoon as much as I was. Of course I didn't tell him that though. I told him my platoon had died, and I lost connection. He didn't seem to be none the wiser. Not to mention our troops seemed to be leaving the area, which meant I couldn't reach them now if I tried. So that meant we'd be trying to survive in an area soon to be flooded with Viet Cong. And if we tried to move back into our territory now, we'd be discovered by the enemy. So we were basically trapped.

Ted never seemed down about it though. And to be honest that made things a lot easier. His lack of worry although frightening when we were practically starving to death, was reassuring. I thought we could do anything together. Every time we got food, I felt like we were kings of the world. I actually really liked Ted. He was a good guy, and we got along. Things were all good until one day he ran into the cave and yelled, "Incoming!"

**I heard the gunfire rip by us, but that was only the beginning. I heard giant bombs shooting off along the outside of the cave. Although I was tucked on the ground beside Ted, I could see the fire shooting outside. I could feel the heat of the flames radiating my body. Soon the entire cave started shaking. Then giant pieces of rock started falling from the cave ceiling. Ted and I blocked ourselves with our gears, but it wasn't enough. Soon we were becoming in engulfed in rock, and I passed out, half from pain, half from fright.**

I'd had a dream I had a ride home. I was in Ted's situation, only I didn't get caught. I hopped off of the helicopter like it was nothing. I was walking through the streets, still in uniform, and people treated me like a ghost. I was nobody. I tried talking to them, but nobody responded. I kept walking, with nowhere to go. I realized I didn't know any of them, and never would I walked like this forever. I had nobody. I had nowhere. I might as well have died.

I awoke in room with my hands tied behind my back, and my entire body bruised. I felt like an empty bottle of toothpaste that had all of its insides pushed out. I was side by side with Ted, who was tied identically to me. He was out cold, and like me on his knees, his hair tangled in his face. He was slumped awkwardly, and when I tried moving over toward to help him, I realized we were chained to the floor. Our legs had chains holding them down to the floor where they squeezed our skin harshly.

"Ted!" I exclaimed. "Wake the hell up!"  
Ted twitched, and then his eyes started flickering. He glared at me and grumbled, "Not now mom..."  
"Idiot!" I snapped. "Wake up!"

Ted's eyes flared open, and he swung his head in every direction. "Where are we?"

"The Cong must have have pulled us out of the wreckage," I decided. "And since they didn't just leave us for dead, that means we're prisoners."

"We're getting it pretty good for prisoners," Ted noted. "I mean, I think our bruises are mostly from the rocks. And we're not even gagged or anything. And we're together. I think there's more here."

"Great," I muttered. "How exactly did they see you?"  
"Uh..." Ted's face went red. "There were some interesting mushrooms I picked up. And... they weren't good for my system. I ended up just puking them out, but I'm a loud puker. You know what, it doesn't matter, we're here now."

Before I could express my anger, a door opened from within the darkness. A brilliant light was making its way towards us, accompanied by the sound of boots clapping the ground. The next thing you knew an asian Vietnamese officer was standing before us with a flashlight in one hand, our dog-tags in the other.

"Soldier Ted Lavender," he said in a terribly strong accent. "Low position officer. A common soldier with nothing on him but worthless supplies, tranquilizers, and a bag that reeked of marijuana." He studied Ted. "You are a long way from your platoon, soldier. And you dind't even try to make it back to them. There a reason why?"

"Leave him alone," I said under my breathe.

"Don't," Ted warned.

The officer looked from Ted back to me. "Your stoner idiot friend is right. I'd stay quiet if I was you. We've heard about you." He studied my dog-tag. "You're the guy who left his platoon. Coward."  
Ted looked over through his hair at me. "What?"

"Oh," the officer had a sarcastic shocked face. "You didn't know? Your little buddy here was the laughing stock of his crew. We eavesdropped on their communication for about an hour, and almost the whole time they were insulting him. Calling him a loser... saying how he let everyone down. Let me guess, you found him alone?"

Ted didn't anything. He only watched me.

"It doesn't matter," the soldier snapped. "As you might have guessed, you are not our usual cookie cutter soldiers. You just want to get home. And we wish you a safe arrival. If you provide us with some information on your platoon, where they are, we can send you on a boat out west, then give you a lifeboat for the rest of the way."

"That's it?" I asked. "Nothing else."  
He shrugged. "Maybe some tactics. Whatever you can tell us really."

I looked at Ted. "Ted, we could finally go home. Both of us could make it."

Ted just stared at the floorboards below remaining silent. He'd need some convincing. I looked to the soldier and asked, "How do we know you won't just kill us after you get the information?"

"We could really use the information," the soldier insisted. "And believe me, stashing you on a boat would be easier than wasting ammo on and you and throwing your bodies away. Once you agree to help, you aren't an enemy soldier, you're an ally."

I looked over at Ted. "Ted, let's do it. It's not like we know that much that could 'cause damage. We just tell him what we know, and then we could go back home. The two of us. We could finally get our break."

Ted continuing hanging his head. He was silent, but I heard him murmur very silently, "No." He shot an eye at me. "I don't care if our information won the war, or didn't help at all. It would be betraying my men."

"You already did that," I told him.

He looked at me and shook his head. "You don't get it at all, do you?" He hung his head. "You do what you want. I'll stay here and die."

I shook my head. "Fine." I looked up in the light of the soldier's flashlight. "I'll tell you what I know. But I want to go home."

"Okay," the soldier said backing up, his voice shifting eerily. "I'll be right back." He backed towards the door and shut it behind me.

I looked over at Ted. "Ted? What happened? Why didn't you say anything?"

Ted pursed his lips. "Because I'm loyal. Not to my country, but to my brothers. I miss them. And just because I'm not patriotic doesn't mean they aren't. And I'm not going to destroy what they believe in so I can get a free ride back home."

"You'll die in here," I reminded him.

He shook his head. "So I'll die in here."

"What?" I demanded. "What happened to things happen the way they're supposed to happen? Weren't we supposed to go home."  
"Yes," he said firmly. "They do. But based off who we are, and the actions we make. And I'll die here off of the actions I've made, and who I am, and that's a loyal person. And you'll go home a coward, because that's who you are."

And just at that moment the door open, and for a moment, I thought I had freedom. But it was the moment I realized freedom isn't birthed from greed. Instead of seeing Vietnamese soldiers about to escort me onto a boat back home, I saw six soldiers step through the door, dressed in camouflage, and United States flags on their shoulders. I was staring at my old platoon.

"Ted Lavender," my old general said to my new best friend. "The United States army grants you a leave of absence on the first helicopter back to the states. We thank you for your service, and you're free to go."

Ted gave me one final look. I couldn't read his face. Was he sad? Was he happy? Was he sympathetic? Remouseful? Maybe all of those. But most of all, I think he thought destiny was catching up on itself. He was stripped of his chains, and led out the door. It was the last time I ever saw him.

My old platoon alongside many others had fought off the Viet Cong that had shot at us and fired bombs along our jungle line. But they lost the battle that day, and our rescue came from my old platoon, that knew who we were, and what we'd done. So they filmed the fake interrogation scene with Ted and I. They'd show it to young soldiers like us, show us an example. And to show the good of not fussing up to the enemy, Ted got special treatment. A medal, and ride back home. I got a last letter from him, wishing me luck, and telling me he'd live it up for the both of us in the states. He told me however he might move far away, and possibly change his name. The army agreed to not tell his platoon about him being alive, and that's how it would remain for the rest of time.

But that left me. And because they wanted to make an example of me, I was screwed. I'd left my platoon stranded. I ran away during the fight Ben died, and didn't even take his dog-tags to bring back with me. I hid away from my platoon, and finally worst of all, I caved in to help the enemy like an idiot. I was given a gun, and a single bullet, and left right back where they'd found me, only I wasn't allowed back in U.S. territory. I was an ally of the Viet Cong. Only I didn't think they'd see it that way.

I studied my dog-tag that they'd handed back to me.

They weren't even going to take my dog-tag back to the states. Now nobody would ever really remember me, except my platoon that thought I'd be better dead. Them, and Ted. The man who cheated death twice. And I'd die out here, lone.

I was just going to get it over with. Even if the war ended I could ever get back home. But I could at least try. I was going to walk into the enemy camp, try to see if I could find a plane, a car, a boat, anything. Anything that could get me home. And I'd do it because that's the way I am, and that's how things were, and how they'd happen.

It didn't take long. I snuck as well as you could in a rush. The enemy scouts didn't see me until I got close enough to shoot. I saw a car in the distance. A getaway vehicle. I was transfixed with the keys that I saw inside.

"Kẻ thù!" A voice cried. "Bắn!"

I felt a bullet pierce my chest, and I was on my knees. I raised my gun, and squeezed the trigger, but I think the closest thing I was to hitting was the moon. I watched the car in the distance begin to roll away, just as my body went numb. I was transfixed with freedom, even as I watched it roll away from me. But that's who I was. And I'd die, because that's the way things happened.


End file.
